


dynamic dissonance

by weatheredlaw



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artificial Intelligence, Character Death, Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-11 20:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7907206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judy finds herself under the employment of Zootopia Techtronic Advancement, keeping watch at night over a highly classified, extremely protected, seemingly innocuous AI - WLDE. Eventually, though, it becomes clear that not everything is as it seems, and that some things are even a secret from the program itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Halistree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halistree/gifts).



> i have 800 things to finish so i might as well start something new.

**TO:**[cbogo@zooptech.org](mailto:cbogo@zooptech.org)  
**FROM:** [dbellweather@ztcityhall.org](mailto:dbellweather@ztcityhall.org)    
**SUBJECT:** REGARDING WHAT WE DISCUSSED THIS MORNING

Dr. Bogo –

I completely understand why you might be more than hesitant to hire on a smaller mammal to be in charge of the [REDACTED] after hours. Let me remind you, however, that Mayor Lionheart has approved all your recent hires, and, given her youth and lack of experience, we believe that your complaints regarding the future employment of the rabbit are largely unfounded. Please be advised that should we discover any sort of discriminatory practices, we will be forced to seize the [REDACTED].

Sincerely,

Dawn Bellweather  
Asst. Mayor  
[sheep emoji]

 

* * *

 

**CHAT ROOM OPEN… WELCOME BACK, J. FANGMEYER!**

chat history:  
                02:45:22 | b. clawhauser  
                “sounds great!”

                02:48:31 | m. del gato  
                “is it weird that it does that?”  
                                [OPEN THIS CHAT? **YES** _NO_ ]

 

**_CHAT WITH M. DEL GATO_ **

fangmeyer | it makes creepy noises sometimes when everyone’s quiet, so yeah i’d say that’s weird man  
del gato | bogo said not to worry about it  
fangmeyer | bogo says that about everything, we all know city hall has him by the balls  
del gato | should we tell the new girl?  
fangmeyer | what new girl?  
del gato | oh man okay LISTEN TO THIS SHIT

 

* * *

 

Judy adjusts her name tag for the fifth time, standing up a little straighter. The elevator is packed full of mammals six or seven times her size, but she does spot a small group of lab mice in the corner, murmuring to themselves about something she can’t quite hear. The day is ending for everyone, but Judy accidentally got onto the wrong elevator and she’s been riding up and down, waiting for everyone to get off so no one can see her bang on the B button until the doors shut.

Eventually, everyone clears out, but it means she’s got fifteen seconds to report to the lab she’s been assigned to in the lower levels before she’s late. She makes it in with two seconds to spare, just as one of the last researchers is filing out. The only one left is a hefty cheetah in the corner, humming to himself and packing up his things. Judy clears her throat, and he turns, giving her a toothy grin.

“You’re _right on time_ , oh man. That’s pretty great.”

Judy nods quickly. “That’s me! Extremely, ah. Punctual.” She clears her throat. “Judy Hopps.”

“Benjamin Clawhauser.” He shakes her paw, jostling her whole body in the process. “You’re the new night watch, huh?”

“I guess so.” She glances around the room. It’s whirring and warm, lit with a soft orange-red glow. Six computer terminals dot the landscape, and in the middle of the wall furthest from her is a large monitor. Words and lines of code scroll up, then down, then disappear before being replaced.

“That’s it,” Clawhauser says quietly. “Pretty impressive, right?”

“…Wow.”

“Did they give you a general manual or anything?”

“Um, no. They said someone would sort of fill me in.”

Clawhauser nods. “I figured. I’ve actually been doing night watch duty for a couple weeks now, since we lost our last one.”

“What happened?”

Clawhauser shrugs. “Dunno. Never met him, actually. Someone said he got fired, but I don’t get involved in the office gossip.” He says this in a way that tells Judy he definitely _does_ and he probably knows _exactly_ what happened, but she doesn’t say anything. Clawhauser hands her a notebook. “The system is pretty self-sufficient. When it needs to do things, it’ll tell you, give you some steps. These are just in case it doesn’t. Honestly, it probably won’t need anything from you. You’re mostly just backup. WLDE’s pretty smart.”

Judy frowns. “Is that what it’s called?”

“Technically it’s called F.O.X.X. Fixing Our Executive Experience. It’s an experimental program we’re building with funding from the local business community. Its ultimate goal is to be able to maintain employment logs, take minutes, boring business executive stuff.”

Judy frowns. “So it’s…pretty mundane?”

“Not even a little,” Clawhauser says proudly. “It’s the first of its kind. After this, we’ll hopefully be able to branch out, do other sorts of streamlining.”

“Why do you call it WLDE then?”

Clawhauser frowns. “I…don’t know. We just always have. Someone who wrote the code called it that, and then we just all sort of started doing it.” He shrugs. “Maybe it’ll tell you, eventually. It doesn’t really talk to us much.” He turns quickly and grabs his bag. “Right! I gotta _jet_ , rabbit. It was super great to meet you though! Let me know if you have any questions, I keep my chat portal open at home until like eleven or so.” He waves at her. “Have a good shift!”

Judy stares after him as he goes, unsure of what to really say. She’d wanted to ask what he meant by _tell_ – WLDE was a computer program. Could it communicate with her? She understood it was an AI, of course, but her experience with them had been limited to the ones they’d played around with at university, the ones that could move a robot arm or ask simple questions.

None of them had ever _spoken_ to her, not like another mammal would. Did Clawhauser mean it that way? Was he messing with her? He didn’t seem that type, but what did she know?

(Answer: nothing. Judy knows _nothing._ )

With a sigh she settles into the chair in front of the monitor, watching the text scroll up and down, vanish and reappear. Clawhauser’s notes are standard, if a little bare. Obviously the program takes care of itself, but what if there’s some kind of emergency, what if she has to put out a _fire_ or something, what if –

The scrolling on the screen suddenly stops, replaced by a thin orange line. Judy stares, watching it suspending in the darkness of the programming, wondering what it means, if she’s already broken something.

Hi there.

Judy _shrieks_ , falling off her chair and scrambling to right herself. The line moves, like it’s _laughing._

Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.

“Wha-what’s—”

I’m wild. You’re Judith L. Hopps. 

“…Wild?” She frowns, then: “Oh! You mean W-L-D-E.”

I prefer W-I-L-D-E, the program says.

“Wilde? Is that…is that your name?”

It would appear so. But you’d know that, given you’ve had to read the F.O.X.X. program manual, yes?

“Um, no. I was never given a manual.”

The program _tsks._ Judy scowls.  Typical rabbit attention span.

“Hey! They never _gave_ me a manual. And what would you know about _rabbit attention spans_ ,” she snaps. “You’re a _program._ ”

_A program that I am having a conversation with. I just got here, cheese and crackers._

I’ve been programmed with what you would call ‘common knowledge.’ Stereotypes and general species facts are a part of that. For example, I could make several assumptions about you right now.

Judy snorts. “Oh yeah? Have at it, then.”

You’re not allowed to complain about it later, you know. Confirm permission to pry into your personal life, just to be sure. There’s a beat of silence, then: You’re supposed to say ‘permission confirmed’, Carrots.

“Were you programmed to give species-specific nicknames, too?”

Yes, actually.

Judy sighs. “Permission confirmed. Jerk.”

WLDE doesn’t respond to her poorly timed insult. He’s already beginning to ramble off bits and bobs and personal details that anyone could dig up in the employee records. Judy remains unimpressed.

“I already _know_ these things.”

Then let me try something else. Your employee ID presents you as a rabbit. According to company statistics, you are one of one. Presumably, you were what is casually referred to within company rhetoric as a ‘diversity hire.’ You are likely from one of the smaller burrows outside of the city, a brief train ride to the east or west. Your parents are most likely farmers, and you are one of several children. I would assume you're the first in your family to leave.

“Are you _done_?”

Almost. Common knowledge dictates that you are overwhelmed by the size and sounds of the city, but you're putting on a brave face for your parents back home. Eventually, though, it will probably become too much for you. If you'd like, I can print up a list of upcoming train departures for...Bunnyburrow.”

“That won't be necessary.” Judy settles back into her chair.

I'll save them to a private folder for you, then.

 

* * *

 

WLDE talks at her for an hour, while Judy responds with small noises or grunts. Eventually, the room grows quiet. Judy wonders, if the program is so good at maintaining itself, whether a little nap would be alright. Just a short one, she could set the alarm on her phone, maybe –

A siren _blares_ through the room, and she falls out of her chair for the second time.

“What the—”

Vital sign diagnostic report: sleeping, including brief power naps, is not allowed per the Zootopia Techtronic Advancement employee guide book. Then: But if you wanted to rest your eyes I’m sure I could be convinced not to tell.

Judy frowns. “You’re an AI,” she says. “AI’s can’t lie. If a superior asked you to print out the vital signs from my shift, it would clearly show me falling asleep at some point.” She folds her arms over her chest, standing in front of the screen like it can _see_ her or something. “Why are you lying to _me_ right now?”

I’m not.

“But you’d lie to my _boss._ ”

You’re frustration is based on the assumption that I can’t lie. This isn’t true.

“But that’s…that’s a basic _rule._ AI’s are developed for certain tasks. If they could lie, then—”

Warning: this area of the code is blocked by a ZTA firewall. Further attempts to probe will be reported to Dr. Bogo.

“But—”

Warning: this area of the code is blocked by a ZTA firewall. Further attempts to probe will be reported to Dr. Bogo.

“Okay, okay! I get it, jeez.” Judy sits down again. The program is silent. “…Wilde?”

Warning: this program is experiencing a difficult employee. Judy groans. Sorry about that, Carrots. Certain parts of my programming are off limits, even to me.

Judy frowns. “But you…you _are_ your programming.”

I’ve been programmed not to access certain parts of my programming.

“This is…confusing. You’re a prototype for a fancy organization system. Why would you have all this red tape?”

Perhaps you should ask Clawhauser.

“Did you talk to him about this when he was working nights?”

No. Clawhauser and I are not what you would call ‘friends.’ Though he is very nice.

“So we’re friends.”

My programming recognizes you as a rabbit, and me as a fox caricature. I am compelled by other parts of my code to antagonize.

Judy laughs. “Seriously?”

I am always serious.

“I don’t believe that.”

WLDE makes an odd noise, almost like it’s…laughing. My emotional responses are programmed as follows: sarcasm, eighty-seven percent; general apathy, ten percent; genuine sincerity, two percent.

Judy frowns. “There’s one percent left, slick.”

The program seems to process this for a moment, making an odd ticking noise before growing very silent. Then: Remaining percentage assignment: unknown.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, WLDE enters into a hibernation period to perform standard updates. Judy doodles in her notebook until she hears the elevator doors open down the hall. Sitting up, she sees a wolf duck into the room and set down his things. He turns to her. “You must be Hopps.”

“Judy,” she says, extending a paw. The wolf gives her a smile.

“Fangmeyer. Was your shift okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Any problems with WLDE?”

Judy glances at the monitor, then shakes her head. “No. Things were pretty quiet.”

Fangmeyer frowns. “He didn’t…I mean there wasn’t…” Judy watches him try to sort out his thoughts before he shakes his head. “Forget it. Thanks for being here. Our last guy just up and left.”

“I heard something had happened.”

“Yeah.” Fangmeyer keeps an eye trained on the blank screen. “Yeah I guess.”

Judy nods. “Um. Okay. I’m gonna…head out.”

“Sure. Get some rest, Hopps. Good to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, too,” Judy says, and heads out. She pauses, though, just outside the lab, and watches the wolf. He stoops over the keyboard, peering at a few things before bringing up the scrolling text. Her lean ears pick up a quiet, _What did you say to her?_ Before the program answers:

Night logs require the access of Dr. Bogo. Please inquire when you have received permission from Dr. Bogo.

Fangmeyer growls. “I’m gonna get into your head,” he says. “One way or another.”

Judy worries her bottom lip before exhaustion overcomes curiosity, and she heads to the elevator.

It is only later, right before she dozes off in bed, that she realizes Fangmeyer called the program _he._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm getting really tired so idk how this turned out but

**WELCOME TO THE ARCHIVE, J. FANGMEYER.**

SEARCH: bogo journals foxx project files

. . . . . . _searching_. . . . . .

RESULTS: 138 RESULTS MATCHING “bogo journals foxx project files”  
FILTER BY:  
> journals  
> proposals  
> memos  
> employee records

**FILTER: JOURNALS, MEMOS**

_Journal, [REDACTED] Project, Day 33_

We are beating the time table. By the second month, we were only expect to have the preliminary _guess work_ completed, but [REDACTED] has already finished the coding process. However much time passes between now and completion won’t matter, because we’ve moved the company review up by three weeks. Next Monday, Fangmeyer will present his findings, and I’ll have them precisely where I want them. I’m not sure yet how all of it will go over. [REDACTED] isn’t popular with the board, and city hall has already expressed their distaste. Nonetheless, we’ll do what’s necessary, if perhaps in shades of grey.

_Journal, [REDACTED] Project, Day 49_

With company approval we move forward. We’ve received an arbitrary grant from the city’s business association. Their representative was present at the meeting, seemed interested in co-opting the tech for their own use. That’s fine by me – so long as the original code and research remains housed here, I’ll adapt it for whoever pays.

_Journal, [REDACTED] Project, Day 61_

[REDACTED] continues to work. Night and day, it seems. I’ve done as much of the hardware implementation as I can, but [REDACTED] remains in control of the line-by-line coding process. All of it is meticulous, oppressive work. I don’t envy it. It’s been years since I’ve coded a program on my own, but part of me does find myself watching, seeing each line crafted by hand, cross-referenced with [REDACTED]. A thing of beauty.

 

**SEARCH TERMINATED . . . . LOGGING OUT**

 

* * *

 

Don’t get crumbs on the keyboard.

“You don’t even know what I’m eating.”

Vital signs diagnostic report: your heat signature indicates you’re stuffing your face right now. Bio scans suggest a root vegetable of some kind.

Judy laughs. “My mom sent me some of my dad’s pickled beets.”

The program ticks a few times. Common knowledge indicates that you have terrible taste in snack foods. There’s a vending machine down the hall. Maybe some flaming hot Cheetos for your delicate rabbit sensibilities?

“Ha ha.” Judy spears the last beet in her Pyrex with her fork and takes a bite. “Everyone in this city is on a health food kick. This is just what we eat back home all the time.”

Would you argue that you were eating beets before it was cool?

Judy rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure eating beets has never been cool.”

I can pull up exactly sixteen restaurants in the nearby area that cite beets as being a popular menu item. Would you like me to save them for you?

“…Yes, actually.”

See? You’re starting to understand my usefulness.

 

* * *

 

The first month of Judy’s nightshift passes largely without incident. WLDE is a perfectly suitable evening time companion, though Judy’s been slow to discuss him (them, it? Fangmeyer always calls WLDE _he_ , and Clawhauser says _it_ and Judy’s more than a little confused). It’s hard to explain to your folks whenever they call that you’re becoming good friends with a program that’s been written to be conversational. Though WLDE is more than just a program, it often seems.

The thought comes to her, unbidden as she’s settling in at home after work. WLDE is chatty, witty, almost _real_ , almost like –

_Like he’s based on a real mammal._

She freezes mid-button, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Could he be? They’d discussed the possibility in school, but it was always something far away, something like science fiction. Was WLDE an actual mammal, and was his personality coded? Could someone even _do that?_ It seemed beyond anyone’s skills. A personality is developed over time, not downloaded.

Judy wants to write it off as an exhaustion induced theory, but when she wakes up in the afternoon, she can’t shake the thought. And if WLDE is based on someone real, then there would be a record of that mammal, somewhere. Judy grabs a quick bite from her fridge, changes, and takes the bus downtown to the library.

She starts with the newspapers. It’s all she’ll have time for before her shift, and it’s the easiest way. The library’s newspaper archives are digitized, but it’s still an exhaustive process. Judy starts five years before, and makes a list of the days and months she pulls. Her eyes are straining and her head is aching when she finally makes it through year _three_ out of five, and decides that’s enough. This was the wrong place to go to, and the wrong way to start all this. She closes her notebook with a frustrated snap and tosses it into her bag before catching the bus to work.

She’s clocked in, but a minute late getting off the elevator and heading to her lab. Without really looking she throws out a quick, “Hey, Clawhauser.”

“It’s Fang.” The wolf glances at her as Judy finally looks up. “Ben went home early.”

“Oh.” Judy adjusts her nametag. Fangmeyer…unsettles her. He comes in after her shift every morning, and every morning he tries to get access to her night logs. “Right.”

“Do you like being here?” He’s slowly packing his things, but he doesn’t seem to be in much of a rush.

Judy nods. “Yeah, it’s…been different. Haven’t really gotten to use anything I learned yet, but—”

“It’s like that, your first year out. I spent eleven months teaching people where the power button was at the university before I got a job here. And even then I was just making copies of stuff for Bogo until a spot opened up on his team.”

“Lucky break.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He tosses a look at the screen, still spitting code at them. “Can I ask you something?”

“Um. Sure. Yes.”

He turns back to her. “Do you want to get coffee this weekend? I’ve got Sundays off, I was thinking we could chat, maybe get to know one another. If you’ve got questions about WLDE I could help you out.”

“Oh!” Judy’s surprised, and a little thrown off. She hadn’t thought Fangmeyer really… _noticed_ her, apart from a general _hi, did the computer say something weird to you_ vibe that she usually gets. “Um, yeah. Yes, I’d like that.”

“Great. Maybe we can meet at the Java Jag? It’s just across the street, I know you’ve got the Sunday shift still.”

Judy nods. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Perfect.” He smiles. “I’ll meet you there around noon.”

“Noon is…noon is fine. It’s good.”

Fangmeyer nods. “Right. I’ll see you, Judy. Have a good night.”

“Yeah.” She watches him walk out, shaking off his lab coat. “You, too.”

 

* * *

 

You have questions about the wolf?

“Well I just…I noticed he talks to you, whenever I’m on my way out. Do you say things to him?”

I remind him of the night log access protocols, which he seems to forget quite often. Considering he’s Bogo’s favorite, he should either know better, or at least have temporary access, on occasion.

Judy frowns. “Are you…not supposed to talk to me?”

I am not an employee of the ZTA. I am not a citizen of Zootopia. I am allowed to do whatever my programming dictates I am allowed to do. My programming tells me I am allowed to converse. So, I converse. My programming tells me I am allowed to answer your questions, to a certain extent. So, I do my best.

“Right, but your programming also tells you to lie, tease, goad, and annoy.”

I think that’s what makes me unique from other AI’s.

And then – a thought, rising up.

What if, deep in that code, _deep_ into that programming – what if the real WLDE is there? If Judy’s theory is correct, wouldn’t there be some reference to the real mammal hidden away? Wouldn’t he have access to it, somehow?

“I have a question.”

I could have an answer.

“I had a…theory, the other day. About you.”

Theories are dangerous. They have no official acceptance within the scientific community.

“There are plenty of theories we believe to be true.”

And yet, your society refuses to accept them as laws. Gravity seems to be the only sure thing you can agree on. We’re not floating into space, therefore we must be held down by something.

Judy scowls. “Fine. I had a random thought about you.”

Ms. Hopps, I had no idea you were thinking of me in your spare time. I’m a little embarrassed.

“ _I think you’re based on a real mammal._ ”

Warning: this area of the code is blocked by a ZTA firewall. Further attempts to probe will be reported to Dr. Bogo.

Judy sighs. “Alright. Forget…forget I said anything.”

After that, though, WLDE is silent. It’s the first time in over a month he hasn’t at least said goodnight to her before hibernating for his updates.

Judy tries not to take it personally.

 

* * *

 

Theories are dangerous, Ms. Hopps.

“I don’t want to talk to you about that anymore.”

Then what should we talk about? Dr. Fangmeyer has listed a coffee date with you in his digital calendar.

Judy _sputters_. “Why do you have access to that?”

I have access to all my researchers’ calendars. Clawhauser is seeing his mother next week. Bogo has a meeting with the board tomorrow morning. Del Gato is seeing a nice tigress named Rita for the third time. You’re the only one without a schedule. But, I see you every night.

“… _Can_ you see me?”

I see you the way you see me. You are diagnostic reports and sound bites translated into data that I can process and respond to. In one way, yes. I see you. But in another, no. I can’t.

“That’s…sad. I wish there was a way to see one another.”

I see how it is.

“That’s not funny. You need your joke receptor updated.”

Or maybe you’re simply not smart enough to understand my mastery. Judy sighs, leaning back in her chair. Then: Is it not enough? To talk to something like me?

“What? No, it’s amazing. This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever _done._ I just…I’ve got this gut feeling that I can’t talk to you about. You don’t have the answers. Not the ones I want, anyway. I went to city hall a couple days ago, but there was nothing down there. Nothing to prove this feeling is _right._ Even though I’m hitting a wall in every direction, I _know_ I’m onto something here. I just…need to figure it out.” Judy pauses. “Did I…make you _sad_?”

Warning: this area of the code is blocked by a ZTA firewall. Further attempts to probe will be reported to Dr. Bogo.

 

* * *

 

This isn’t a date. At least, Judy doesn’t think it is. She gets a text from Fangmeyer the morning of, confirming, but she goes back to sleep, rolling out of bed around eleven to make herself presentable. He’s already there, five minutes early, when she steps off the bus and he goes inside to get her the iced tea she wants, bringing it back with a little slice of carrot cake.

“Is that presumptuous?”

“No, it’s what I would have ordered.” She smiles and takes an appreciative bite. They sit in an awkward silence after that, Judy munching on cake and taking little sips of her tea. She finally says, “Did you…need to talk to me about something?” Fangmeyer draws in. “Sorry,” she says quickly. “ _Sorry_. I just…I can hear you, sometimes. After I leave. You’re…trying to get him to talk to you.”

“He won’t. Just makes noises. I think the group of us sends him into hibernation. All that code he spits out is just updates, and half of them are arbitrary. Sometimes…sometimes I think he can edit his own code, because the programs are really weird.”

Judy shakes her head. “That’s not possible. An AI can’t _edit_ itself, that would be insanely dangerous.”

“Yeah, well. He lies. He’s lied to you, hasn’t he? The guy who wrote his code, he said he could lie.”

“Who wrote the code?”

“I don’t know, only Bogo ever met him. After everything was written, he took off, left us some notes.”

“Is there a way to find out his name?”

Fangmeyer frowns. “Probably not. I’ve looked through Bogo’s journals. They took every reference to him _and_ the original project title out. It’s full of these redacted comments, like they went through with a marker and just crossed through things.”

Judy leans forward. “I had a theory a couple weeks ago.”

Fangmeyer moves closer. “What kind?”

“I was…thinking. The program is so conversational. He’s so _real_ , all the time. What if—”

“I already looked.”

Judy deflates. “Seriously?” The wolf nods. “ _Ugh._ I thought I was getting somewhere good with this!”

“I think you are,” Fangmeyer insists. “I just think we’re looking in the wrong direction.”

“Are we colluding?” Judy asks. “Because I’m pretty sure we could get fired for trying to dig into the programming.”

“If we get the answers we want, we’ll definitely get fired, but…” He shrugs. “Might be kind of worth it.”

“Maybe.”

Fangmeyer leans back. “Can I ask you something, now?” Judy nods. “What does he say to you?”

“I…I mean…” She stares at her paws in her lap. “Not much, really.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Fangmeyer, I’m serious. We really don’t have these deep conversations.”

A paw slams onto the table. “I don’t _care._ I don’t care how trivial they are, I don’t care how mind numbingly _stupid_ the entire thing might _be._ He _talks_ to you. You’ve been here for less than two months and he fills the logs with data, data that _I can’t use_ because I don’t have the damn _access!_ You weren’t even _there_ when he was just parts, when he was just an idea, and we had to beg for every single dime they handed us.”

Judy’s pulled back, almost as far as she can go. Fangmeyer closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“He just _teases me_ ,” she blurts out, angrily. “He can’t answer of these questions, so I don’t know why you’re mad at me. He talked to me first, I was just going to sit and read a _book_ , or apply for a _real job_ , but he started talking and I’m _alone_ and he’s the only friend that I—”

She freezes. He’s staring at her, and a few customers are trying not to watch – but it doesn’t matter.

Judy’s figured something out.

“Hopps…”

“Shut up. Shut up, I’m thinking.” Judy grabs a napkin. “Give me a pen.” Fangmeyer obeys, watching her scribble those numbers WLDE gave her that first night they were together.

“What are you—”

“He told me, he’s programmed for specific responses. Eighty-seven percent sarcasm, ten percent general apathy, two percent genuine sincerity, and an unknown attribute coming in at one percent. First off, we know he lies. But we also know he _cares._ Cares more than he should. He’s a program, but now I _know_ he was real, or at least based on someone who was real. Or is real, I don’t know. But if we put aside the lying and we take _these_ percentages at face value—”

“Hopps, what are you getting at?”

“I think…” She crumples the napkin. “Okay, it’s going to sound really, _really_ stupid, but…I think that one percent is…friendship. Or something like it,” she says quickly.

Fangmeyer leans back again. “… _Friendship._ ”

“ _Or something like it._ You know, something that makes him…amicable.”

“Friendly. As in friendly friendship.”

“Don’t patronize me, you _know_ what I mean.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I do, actually. Alright, we’ll go with that theory, it makes sense.”

“Only if we find whoever wrote the program,” Judy points out. “Without him, we don’t have anything.”

Fangmeyer nods. “Right.” He folds his arms over his chest. “The only one who knows is Bogo, and I’m not stupid enough to ask.”

“So we do this the old fashioned way,” Judy says, grinning. “A little aggressive investigating never hurt anyone.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so okay.

**TO:** [](mailto:dbellweather@ztcityhall.org) dbellweather@ztcityhall.org  
**FROM:** [](mailto:cbogo@zooptech.org) cbogo@zooptech.org  
**SUBJECT:** re: re: re: marketing strategy

I told you, I’ll sell it to whoever is willing, but the original code and intent of this project remains in this building, under my supervision. You have no idea how close we are to a breakthrough, what this could  _ mean _ for every mammal in this city. This is technology that’s never been seen before, it will revolutionize leadership, government, the way we interact with one another, how we do our jobs. Anything could be possible, but I won’t sell out before I’ve finished my research. Tell your investors they can wait. 

 

**TO** :  [](mailto:cbogo@zooptech.org) cbogo@zooptech.org   
**FROM** :  [](mailto:dbellweather@ztcityhall.org) dbellweather@ztcityhall.org   
**SUBJECT** : re: re: re: re: marketing strategy

I will remind you that your “funding” from the business association is largely arbitrary and was negotiated by me. Disabuse yourself of the notion that I will be as generous in the future  _ now _ if you refuse to negotiate. 

 

**TO** :  [](mailto:dbellweather@ztcityhall.org) dbellweather@ztcityhall.org   
**FROM** :  [](mailto:cbogo@zooptech.org) cbogo@zooptech.org   
**SUBJECT** : re: re: re: re: re: marketing strategy

I think there are some things about the [REDACTED] Project that you do not understand. Perhaps you never will. Regardless, I will meet with your investors, give them the watered down report you so crave. But it stays here. With me. 

 

**TO** :  [](mailto:cbogo@zooptech.org) cbogo@zooptech.org   
**FROM** :  [](mailto:dbellweather@ztcityhall.org) dbellweather@ztcityhall.org   
**SUBJECT** : re: re: re: re: re: re: marking strategy

That can be arranged.

 

* * *

 

You seem distracted.

Judy looks up from her phone – Fang’s been texting her updates through her shift, some things he’s been looking into, or data that’s gotten back to him. They’ve been hunting for WLDE’s original coder for two weeks now, and Judy’s starting to feel a little bit like they’re wasting their time. 

“I’m good,” she says.

A pause. Then: I don’t know why it bothers you so much that I’ve been programmed to lie. You are so easily capable of it.

She tosses her phone onto the keyboard. “I’m not lying. I said I’m fine, so I’m fine.”

But you’re not being completely honest with me.

“You are literally incapable of being completely honest with  _ me _ ,” Judy snaps. “Why should I have to tell you everything?”

I never said you did. I’m only observing. That’s one of my functions. To observe, to collect data. Judy raises a brow. To ask you how your relationship with Dr. Fangmeyer is going.

“Are you  _ serious? _ ” The line moves, that little noise that Judy always thinks sounds like laughter. “We are not dating. We’re…just talking.”

His digital calendar has been updated with several notes to text you, or to meet with you at the library. I was under the impression, according to popular culture, that library dates were ‘turn offs.’

“You know what else is a turn off? You. Being a jerk.”

Why Ms. Hopps, I had no idea I had done anything to turn you on.

“You haven’t,” Judy assures him. “But you’re not as good a friend when you’re being sort of mean.”

. . . A friend.

“Yeah.” Judy leans forward, resting her chin in her paw. “You and I are friends. We talk all the time, we know things about one another. I’ve shared things with you. We tease and bother one another.”

We have each other’s backs.

“Yeah, we—” Judy freezes. “We have each other’s backs. Where did you hear that phrase?”

WLDE’s speech picks up. Common knowledge of friendship. Logged here. Common phrases associated with friendship: we have that in common, let’s go see a movie, can we talk for a minute, I’ve got your back, I will always be here for you. Did you need me to access more phrases? Maybe they would be useful in your relationship with Dr. Fangmeyer, since you’re ‘just friends.’

Judy stares at the screen, the orange line simmering there in the blackness, waiting for her response. She says quietly, “Save them for me. I’ll…reference them later,” before she picks up her phone.

**judy:** we’re on the right track, i know it   
**fang:** good timing because i think i’ve got something. give me a sec i’m gonna use up one of my wfh days   
**judy:** what?   
**fang:** work from home. newbie.

 

* * *

 

“That’s what he said?”

Judy nods. “Yeah. It was…weirdly specific, the way he worded it. Like it had been written there for him. I kept expecting the firewall message, but it’s almost like he…got around it. He’s got some common knowledge protocols I think, and if he accesses those to talk about things, then I don’t get blocked.”

“We have each other’s backs.”

“We have each other’s backs.”

Fangmeyer sighs. “Okay. Well that doesn’t really…help me, but. I’ve got some stuff I want you to look at.” He hands her a stack of papers. “So any record of the original code writer is gone. But I started thinking. ZTA headhunts, basically. Like they recruited you right out of college, they recruited me away from the IT company I was working for. What if they recruited WLDE’s coder from  _ his _ original company?”

“He could have been a freelancer.”

“Could have been, but if WLDE’s based on a real mammal, that’s tech that the coder never could have developed independently. They’d need money, resources, a  _ really _ powerful computer. Something comparable to what we have at ZTA already. And there aren’t many tech companies in the city that can say they’ve got that. No one but—”

“But Big,” Judy says, almost breathless. “You think he  _ left _ Big?”

“I think for the right price tag, yeah.”

Judy swallows. ZTA’s biggest competitor wasn’t actually another tech firm, it was an investor. Big had started out in Zootopia has just a run of the mill stock broker. He’d made some powerful friends, and some big investments. Eventually he branched out, and his parent company, BIGG, owned half the start-ups in the city. If WLDE’s coder had been looking for someone to invest in experimental tech, it would have been with BIGG. 

“Can we get access to any of their records?”

“Actually. We already do.” He taps the stack of papers with his pen. “I’ve got a buddy who left ZTA to go work for one of BIGG’s firms, and I’m the reference he used to get the job. It really gave him a boost. He’s been telling me he owes me for three years. Last night, he repaid his debt.”

“With…employee records? How did he get these?”

“Apparently he’s dating a gazelle in HR.”

“Oh, well good for him.”

“Yeah, they seem happy together.  _ Focus _ , Jude.” She scowls at him while he splits the pile in half. “Everyone who leaves one of BIGG’s companies has to fill out a form explaining  _ why. _ Maybe WLDE’s on here.”

“WLDE is stylized, though.” Judy takes a pen and piece of paper, scralws out W-L-D-E. “But it  _ could _ be a last name. When I was searching through the papers, I looked for  _ this. _ ”

_ W-I-L-D-E _

“Wilde.”

“Yeah.” Judy taps the name. “ _ Wilde. _ ”

“Great.” He takes the paper from her and writes down a few of the basic facts they know.

_-the program entered development six years ago_ __  
_-it was coded by a single mammal_ __  
_-city hall has been involved in its development, along with the business association_ _  
_ __-bogo is a wuss

“Hey, that’s not  _ nice _ ,” Judy says, scratching out the last one.

“Well he is. He lets city hall get all up in our business.”

“Why?”

“Says they’re interested in it. Anyone would be, I guess. Especially if they consciously uploaded someone’s, you know. Consciousness to a computer.” Fang sighs. “Alright. Let’s start combing.”

 

* * *

 

They look for hours. The list isn’t alphabetized, and the dating system is hard to understand. It’s a shoddy job, but Judy gets the idea that she’s got access to information she probably isn’t supposed to have, so she doesn’t complain. Every so often Fangmeyer checks in, or she double checks a date here or there, but – 

Nothing. 

“My brain hurts,” the wolf mutters, leaning back. They’ve made camp in his apartment, setting a pot of cooling coffee for him and tea for Judy between them. “This isn’t going to work.”

“We aren’t done yet,” Judy insists. 

“You’ve got work in two hours.”

“Then we’ll look for two more hours, we can do this.” She turns to the next page. “We’re going to find him, and we’re going to figure out what happened, and—” She freezes.

“Your optimism is great, really. I just—”

“Shut up, I found him.”

“ _ Stop _ telling me to—” He jolts mid-sentence, bounding over the table to look with her. “Where? Where is he?”

“Here. He’s  _ here. _ ” She yanks the cap off her hi-liter with her teeth, scrawling a bright yellow line across the page. “Wilde, Nick.”

“Nick Wilde. Nick Wilde. I don’t…I don’t know that name. Should we know that name?”

“If he coded your project, definitely not.”

“But this is  _ lazy _ ,” Fang says. “There’s nothing about this project anywhere, but ZTA would let this go?”

“Maybe they didn’t know about the process.”

“Everyone knows about employee records.”

Judy nods. “But Big would have kept this. If he knew Nick left to go work for ZTA, he’d keep this, probably, just to remind them that he has something, right?”

Fangmeyer shakes his head. “But Wilde didn’t leave to go work for someone else.” He points to the  _ reason _ box. “It just says, ‘terminated.’” 

Judy frowns. “Terminated. Like, fired?”

“I guess so.” He grabs another paper. “Okay. You figure out where he lives, I’m going to see if anyone was let go on the same day, maybe they know a little more about him.” He grabs the stack again, scouring for dates. Judy grabs her computer, going straight to Zoogle and typing out his name. ‘Nick Wilde’ doesn’t generate any results, and neither does ‘Wilde, Nick’ or ‘N Wilde’. Wilde doesn’t seem to be a super common name, but Judy keeps looking. It’s Fangmeyer, though, he finds another employee, terminated the day after. 

“Someone named  _ Finnick. _ ”

“Okay.” Judy glaces at the page and types in his name. She gets a few hits, writes down the three phone numbers that show up, and hands them to Fang. “I’ve gotta go to work. You call, see what you can get. Text me if something happens.”

 

* * *

 

**fang:** something happened  
**judy:** i’ll be over right after my shift  
**fang:** no meet me here  
1123 N. Fielder Way   
Apt # 23

he’s waiting for us

 

* * *

 

“Hey, WLDE?”

Yes?

“Do you...have a first name?”

A few ticks. Warning: this area of the code is blocked by a ZTA firewall. Further attempts to probe will be reported to Dr. Bogo.

Judy sighs. “Yeah,” she murmurs, resting her paw over the keyboard. “That’s what I thought.”

I’m going to update, Judy.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow then, I guess.”

Maybe we could add it to your digital calendar. So empty, Judy.

She laughs. “Sure, WLDE. Go ahead and add it.”

Added. Enjoy your night, Judy.

“Yeah, you too.”

 

* * *

 

“Maybe you should have napped.”

Judy scowls. “You told me I had to come here straight away. Are you still ‘working from home’?”

“I can do it for another day or so, but I gotta get back.” Fang checks his phone. They’ve knocked on the door twice, but no answer. Judy’s getting worried. “He said he’d  _ be here. _ ”

“Maybe he’s asleep.”

“Alright, you go home then, I’ll—” The door suddenly swings open. Fang doesn’t notice the little fox standing at their feet, but Judy does. He’s a fennec fox, grumpy looking, probably just got woken up. 

“Are you those ZTA kids?”

“That’s us.” Judy extends a paw. “Judy Hopps, we haven’t spoken yet—”

“Get inside. We gotta make this quick, though. Sometimes they come by to check.”

Fangmeyer frowns. “Who?”

The fox chuckles. “Your employer, kiddo. Your  _ employer _ comes by the check, just to make sure I’m still around.” He shuts the door. “You guys had questions about the project? I’ll hand it to you, you’re the first ones to find me. Thought ZTA had pretty much erased me from existence.”

“We found you in the BIGG records.”

“So you broke the  _ law _ ,” he says. 

Judy flushes. “Well, not  _ exactly _ —”

“No it’s good. The law is...arbitrary. Good on you.”

Judy looks around. “Is Nick Wilde around? Will he meet with us later or…”

Finnick stops on his way to the kitchen, paw resting on the wall. “...No.”

Fangmeyer leans forward. “We’d like to speak to him, if we could.”

The fennec sighs. “Yeah? Try going into work, then. You’re the only one with access to him anymore.”

“What...what do you mean?”

“I  _ mean _ that your  _ program… _ I wrote it. I wrote WLDE.”

“But _Nick_ Wilde—”

Finnick turns to face them. “Nick Wilde is dead. That program is all that’s left of him, of my  _ best _ friend. That’s the first thing I’ll let you know.” He closes his eyes. “Gimme a minute. I’ll...get some coffee going.” He disappears into the kitchen, leaving Judy and Fangmeyer alone.

Fang swallows. “You were right. That...that one percent.”

Judy stares after Finnick. 

_ We have each other’s backs. _

**_We have each other’s backs._ **

We have each other’s backs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating changed to t for some language, and i guess i'll throw in a character death tag <3

** MEMO TO C. BOGO, FROM THE DESK OF ASST. MAYOR DAWN BELLWEATHER **

I understand your initial hesitations. What [REDACTED] said is absolutely true. This technology, in the wrong paws, has enormous potential to do, well, the _wrong thing._ But you assume too much that it _will_ fall into the wrong paws, or hooves, or whatever. I’m not in the business of living my life in fear, Dr. Bogo, I hope you know that. I urge you to continue, at whatever pace you can. [REDACTED] won’t say who bought into this tech in the first place, but I think you and I both know. And if the shrew thought it was going to help him live forever, then there must be _something_ to it.

 

* * *

 

“How long did it take you to figure it out?”

Judy looks over the steam of tea and coffee, straight into the fox’s eyes. “A month, maybe less.”

“Same here,” Fangmeyer says quietly, sipping from his cup. “I have a lot of questions,” he adds.

Finnick nods. “I’m sure you do.”

“First off, what possessed you to even _do_ this in the first place? There’s no way you could have thought it would exist in a vacuum, that no one would want something to do with it. Second, how do you even _digitize_ a consciousness, and third—”

“It was Nick’s idea,” Finnick says. “But that’s…a longer story. Maybe longer than we have time for.”

Judy leans forward. “We’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ll listen to any story you have to tell, no matter how long.”

“You sure? It’s…not fun. It’s the shittiest story I’ve ever had to tell in my entire life. I’ve never even told anyone the whole thing.”

“That’s alright. You tell us what you can.”

“Nah, I’ll tell it all. Nick would want it that way, you know? Especially where you two are concerned. He’d think you were pretty damn clever.” Fangmeyer straightens up, sets his mug on the table. “Alright. I guess if you want the whole thing, you have to go back a bit. Nine years, actually. Right after Nick’s old man died.”

“Damn,” Fang mutters.

“Yeah, I know. It sucks basically from start to finish, but.”

“Keep going,” Judy says, gripping her cup.

“Right. So Nick’s old man died. Really messed him up. The guy was a leader in the community, you know. Really helped Nick turn his life around. Never made you feel bad about yourself, never let you think you were a waste of time or space. After, Nick just kept talking about how much better things would be if he could ask his dad what to do, or if he dad had left something behind. He always knew what to say, how to say it, what the next move should be. So Nicky got to thinking. Your brain is sort of programmed over time, right? It makes certain decisions in certain situations. Like…you.” He points to Judy. “You love your mom?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Okay. You see a photo of your mom, how would you feel?”

“Happy.”

“Right. And you.” He looks at Fangmeyer. “How do you feel about your ex?”

“Not great.”

“Perfect. Sort of. Sorry about that. But if you saw a photo of them, you’d—”

“I get it,” Fang snaps. “If this, then that. Standard programming.”

“Right. So Nick did some tinkering, programmed a bot with a camera on it that could recognize photos. He put all this _history_ into it, basically programmed it to react certain ways to certain kinds of photos or situations. Then we put Nick and the robot in two separate rooms, and had them look at a hundred photos they hadn’t seen before. The robot and Nick reacted the same to ninety-nine of them.”

“To new photos.”

“To new photos,” Finnick says. “After that, you couldn’t stop him. He started going to classes again, hanging out with an old college buddy of ours, a guy who taught neuroscience at the school. He met neurologists, engineers, biochem guys, psychologists. Anyone who might have one tiny thought about this, Nick met with them. He tore apart computers and bought old medical equipment. He recorded his voice and digitized the patterns—”

“Wait. He did _all_ of the testing on himself?”

Finnick nods. “I thought he was nuts, but I couldn’t let him do it on his own. He _electrocuted_ himself one day, and I almost left. But he talked me into staying. He…he always could. Nick could charm, cheat, or lie his way out of just about anything. I stayed because he was my friend, and I didn’t want him to _kill_ himself in his mom’s garage.

“Then we made a breakthrough. A pretty big one.” Finnick shifts on the couch, scrubbing a paw over his face. “I think we both thought the whole thing was going to just…collapse. Like we’d hit a brick wall and wouldn’t be able to bust our way through. But we kept vaulting over them. Then the big one came up. Nick had been wearing these damn nodes on his head for weeks, just had them on whenever he was talking or on the phone or whatever. Everyone thought he was nuts, and I think he sort of liked it that way. Then we downloaded all the data, and we realized something. All of it had a pattern.”

Judy shakes her head. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_. Your thoughts? Your feelings and questions and all the work your brain does? It has a discernible pattern, something that’s uniquely _yours._ When we downloaded it, we graphed it as spikes of neuro activity. It’s like a paw print. Those ridges are yours, and yours alone. Like the patterns in your fur, or the shade of your ears.” Judy’s twitches. “Once we had a pattern, we realized we could isolate certain patches. A pattern for Nick’s feelings on his mother. A pattern for Nick’s feelings on chocolate cake. A pattern for Nick’s feelings on a certain street he liked to walk down. It was all _there._ ”

“And that’s when you went to Big.”

“That’s exactly it.”

Finnick tells them how Nick sold Big the idea that his brain could basically live forever. “Little shrew like that, you know he’s half ego, considering he didn’t get where he is by being a moron. And Nick could talk his way _into_ things just as well as out. Big gave us the best lab equipment money could buy, the fastest damn computer, all of it. We ran Nick’s brain through the gambit. We talked to everyone, walked every street, ate every food, watched every movie. It was… _fun_ , actually. Nick knew how to have a good time.”

“So you, what? Outgrew Big’s hospitality? Your records say you were both terminated, like you got fired or something.” Fang folds his arms over his chest. “What did ZTA offer you?”

Finnick shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“ _Fang._ ”

“Oh come on, Judy. He’s been feeding us some anecdotal garbage for an hour now. I want to know why you and Wilde gave that tech to ZTA. I want to know when it happened and I want to know why.”

The room grows quiet. Finnick has his head in his paws, staring at some spot on the floor. Outside, a horn blares, reminding them that there is a life out there, a solid one, made of _real_ things. Judy almost wishes she’d never _made_ this mess, but—

“Your company didn’t give us any money. Nick _died_ before we could finish the damn thing.”

 

* * *

 

Nick got sick, he says. Nick got really, _really_ sick.

“What was it?” Judy asks.

“It was a freaking _brain tumor._ He’d been complaining about headaches for a month, but we figured it was just the experiments. Then he passed out, we took him to the hospital. After that, it didn’t take long.”

Fang leans forward. “Was it the testing? Is that what caused it?”

“Doc said no. Nick’s old man died of cancer, so did his grandad. I think it was just bad luck. Even in the hospital though, he was wearing those damn nodes. ‘You need to collect this data, Finn. You need to get all this uploaded, Finn.’ Like I was even _thinking_ about that. I was going to trash the whole thing.”

“How long did he last?”

“After diagnosis? A month, maybe. Seemed to blur together. His mom took care of everything. I was back at the lab, just doing the damn job he’d asked me to. I came back every morning, talked with him as long as I could. He was obsessed. His mom told him to stop, but he wanted it done. He wanted this _finished._ That’s all he asked me to do, after he was gone.” Finnick sighs. “His employee record says terminated because there’s really no _option_ for when someone dies. And after that, I quit. Big wasn’t interested in the tech without Nick. I wasn’t the charismatic one, I couldn’t sell it. So I took it to someone who would give me the space and equipment to finish it.”

“You made a deal with Bogo.”

“He was interested. Didn’t seem to mind that I wasn’t much of a salesman. I explained what I wanted to explain, and he didn’t ask a lot of questions. Gave the project a really stupid name, though.” Finnick sniffs. “ _Resurrection_ Project. Like we were bringing Nicky _back_ or something.”

“ _Redacted_ ,” Fang murmurs.

“They gave me what I needed, and after it was done, I left. I never wanted to go near it again.”

“Did ZTA tell you what they wanted with the tech?” Judy asks.

“No. And I didn’t ask. Some sheep from city hall hung around a lot. Seemed pretty interested. Didn’t like me much, but the feeling was mutual. She kept asking the same question, though. ‘When do we start downloading the consciousness? When is a good time to begin?’ I told her, I said, ‘Right before you’re gonna die, I guess.’ Don’t think she liked that much.” Finnick laughs. “Anyway, after that some ZTA guys would show up here, ask me to do some maintenance from time to time. Eventually they just came by to make sure I hadn’t skipped town yet. No one knows how to really _code_ this from the ground up, you know. I’m the only one.”

Judy frowns. “You’re letting them do that to you?”

The fox shrugs. “What else am I supposed to do? I did what Nick asked. I wrote the damn program. I keep it going, I do what’s expected. They’ve got me in a bind, here. Can’t do what I really want, can’t do what I _should_ have done, before Nick was gone. Can’t—” He freezes, eyes darting between them. “But that’s it, isn’t it?”

“…What’s it?”

“I can’t do it. But you can.”

Judy frowns. “Do _what?_ ”

“You can delete it. You can delete the whole thing, break it down, tear it apart.”

Fangmeyer shakes his head. “This tech is _revolutionary._ Why would we want to destroy it?”

Finnick looks at Judy. “You like Nick, don’t you?”

“I…”

“It’s okay to say yes. Everyone liked Nick. And Nick wanted everyone to like him. He’d get a kick out of you, you know? And _you_ understand, you see it. You can tell that Nick was good, that his brain was a decent one, that he just wanted to make things _better._ ”

“Right.”

“But what if…what if it wasn’t? What if your brain wasn’t so good, or wasn’t so brave? What if it didn’t want the things Nicky wanted? What if it wanted to hurt, if it wanted to rip things open and leave them there?” Finnick grabs Judy’s paw. “What if your brain just wanted to manipulate the entire world around them, into something they could control?” He looks at Fangmeyer. “What would you do about it then?”

 

* * *

 

Fang shoves his paws into his pockets. Finnick had told them they’d gotten lucky, they no one from ZTA was going to come by today, but they’d lingered long enough.

“It’s your choice,” he’d added. “If you wreck it, though, come tell me. I want to know.”

“He seems awfully quick to destroy the last remaining memory of his best friend.”

Judy nods. “I think he feels like he’s corrupted it. Like if someone who isn’t as good as Nick has their consciousness coded, then maybe he’s done the world a disservice. I think he regrets it.”

“Then why did he do it?”

“He wanted to honor his friend, finish his work.” Judy shrugs. “I think it’s…noble, in a way.”

Fang nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” He glances at his watch. “You should go home and rest. I’m going to Big’s tech offices, maybe there’s someone I can shake down for stuff on Wilde.”

“Don’t get arrested.”

He laughs. “Not making any promises. I’ll text you, let me know when you get in for your shift.”

Judy waves as he goes, stifling another yawn as she catches the bus. She’s exhausted, but Finn’s story is still running around her head. She’d asked one last question, before they’d left, something that had been digging at her since he mentioned it.

_“The photos. You said the robot and Nick had the same reaction to ninety-nine of them, but there were a hundred.”_

_“You want to know which one.” Judy nodded. “It was a picture of his dad. The robot was sad. It told me it missed him, that it hoped he wasn’t in pain anymore.”_

_“And Nick?”_

_Finnick smiled. “It was a good picture. They were having fun. Nick laughed without even thinking.” He shrugged. “There’s just some things you can’t program, I guess. I tried, you know, but I think love is one of them.”_

Judy sighs, standing when the bus pulls up to the stop outside her apartment. She’s convinced now that she’s right about that last one percent, but she doesn’t know how to prove it beyond the fact that WLDE was programmed by _Nick Wilde’s_ best friend. She shakes off the thought – her entire body is screaming for rest as she trudges up the steps, fumbling for her keys.

It takes her a moment to notice that the way is blocked – and she is bumping noses with a well-dressed, patiently waiting sheep.

Judy looks up.

“You must be Judy,” the sheep says, extending a hoof. “I’m Dawn Bellweather, assistant mayor?”

Judy blinks. “Um. Okay.”

“I wanted to know if I could ask you a few questions, Judy.” She puts a gentle arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t we go inside?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh jeez

**[TRANSCRIPT | SOURCE: PROJECT NEW DAY, DAY 49]**

We’re making some serious progress. Ma isn’t happy I keep setting the garage on fire, but I told he if she wants me to do this somewhere safe, then she needs to rent me some nice lab space, because I am living in her basement, broke, and unemployed. The only reason I have any of this shit is because Finn’s got that contact at the comp lab downtown. Fuckin’ hackers, am I right Finn? [garbled, probable swearing heard in the background] He’s just mad because I set his favorite shirt on fire. It was, for the official project record, totally on purpose.

I think if we keep working, we’ll be able to take this to Big before the month is out. I’ve already got my speech planned out. He’s quick and clever, but my species _invented_ being quick and clever, so he’s got his work cut out for him if he’s going to try to get out of listening to me.

All of this is being recorded. This is data, right here. My words, my thoughts, all of it. If Finnick were agreeable, he’d be doing it, too. But my own mother thinks I’m nuts, along with half the university, so it’s just me.

Proving them wrong is going to be worth it. I know it will be.

 

* * *

 

“You have a, ah, lovely. Little place.” Bellweather swipes a hoof over the windowsill and smiles. “Help from the company?”

“Um yes. They…they helped me find housing.” Judy sets her purse on the counter, taking a few deep breaths. “Can I get you some tea, Ms. Bellweather?”

“Please.” She turns back to Judy. “You can call me Dawn.”

“Right.”

“And tea would be lovely.”

Judy nods, going into the kitchen. She quickly slides her phone into her back pocket, moving around and starting to boil water. She has a terrible feeling, the most _awful_ feeling. Why would Dawn Bellweather show up at her house right after she saw Finnick? After weeks of poking and prodding, of getting access to information she shouldn’t have, asking questions she shouldn’t ask, feeling things she really shouldn’t feel –

When she finally sets the tea down in front of Bellweather, the sheep has made herself comfortable on Judy’s futon, little legs crossed primly at her ankles, eyes watching Judy’s every move. “Thank you,” she says, and takes a cup.

“Of course.” Judy sits in the only other chair she has, across from Bellweather. She doesn’t lift the cup – she knows her paws are shaking, that they’re not going to stop. So she says, “Is there something you needed to talk to me about?”

Because she might as well.

Dawn smiles, taking one last sip before placing the cup back on the coffee table and resting her hooves in her lap. “You know, Judy. I was the one who helped you get hired.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. You were a prime candidate. So smart, such _good_ grades in school. Excellent recommendations, excellent work in all your labs.” She shrugs. “It was a no brainer, really. Dr. Bogo was unsure, but I knew you would do a spectacular job.” Dawn sighs. “But I also knew. I knew that there was a…chance. A slim one, I should say, that someone as clever as you might go…looking. For answers to the things you had questions about.” She leans forward, stretching to grasp Judy’s paw. “I know you went to see Finnick today.” Judy freezes. “Don’t worry,” she adds. “I won’t tell.”

“You…you won’t?”

“No, of course not! You were curious and you had questions! Dr. Bogo isn’t really the most accessible person, is he?”

Judy shakes her head. “I’ve…never met him.”

“I didn’t think you had.” She shakes her head. “It is unfortunate. I mean, it’s one of the reasons we’re planning on letting him go, you see. At the end of the month.”

Judy frowns. “…We?”

“The board. I’m a member, you didn’t know?”

“I…no. No, I didn’t.”

Bellweather sighs. “It’s alright, not many do. It’s why I’ve been so close to the F.O.X.X. project, you know. I was there for the original pitch, from Finnick, of course. Before Bogo was assigned to lead the team. I saw its potential right away. That’s why I’ve remained close by.”

“What potential?” Judy asks. Her body has stilled, paws unmoving now in her lap. A shred of confidence is left, and it begins to grow. She picks up her tea. “What would _you_ like to do with WLDE?”

Bellweather smiles. “What anyone concerned with the future of this city would want to do. This program is only the start. With that technology, with the _knowledge_ WLDE has, we could digitize any consciousness we wanted to. Use the leaders of today to inspire the ones of tomorrow. And _consider!_ A completely connected world. Everyone using the program as a repository of knowledge, of information. A business community united, citizens in tune with one another. Your paw, on the _pulse_ of society.”

“Control,” Judy murmurs.

“Don’t be naïve, Judith.” She leans back against the futon, comfortable now, confident. “It isn’t control if everyone agrees to it.”

Judy stares. She hears Finnick’s words, now, and understand them. Better than before.

_What if your brain wasn’t good?_

(like nick’s)

_What if your brain wasn’t brave?_

(like nick’s)

_What if your brain wanted to hurt?_

_What if your brain wanted to rip things open and leave them there?_

_What if your brain wanted to manipulate the entire world around them?_

                (into something they could control)

                                                _What would you do about it then?_

Judy stands. “Will you excuse me for a moment? I need to use the restroom.”

Bellweather nods. “Of course.”

It takes all of her will power not to _run_ , but she knows what she needs to do. She isn’t sure if Bellweather is just monologuing before she _kills_ her, or if she’s trying to talk her into joining some insane technical revolution, but it doesn’t matter. Judy has to get the hell out of her apartment, and she has to do it _now._ She locks the bathroom door behind her, grabs her phone from her pocket, and texts Fang.

_bellweather is here and we have to do it now._

Then she climbs out the little bathroom window over her shower, and shimmies onto the fire escape, climbing the ladder down to the alley behind her building.

“Too easy,” she mutters.

“Damn right,” someone says. She turns around, gets a chest full of _hoof_ , and goes flying. It knocks the wind out of her, but she’s fast, quick to recover as the ram gets another running start. Judy waits, waits right until he’s close, and uses her size to leap over his horns as he goes crashing into the wall.

“Sorry!” she shouts over her shoulder, and takes off. That’s going to buy her a little bit of time, but she hails a cab for good measure. “I need you to get me to the Zoop Tech offices as fast as you can.”

“Zoop Tech? Oh, for like a nerd emergency.” The lion behind the wheel nods. “Right, I got you girlie.” He takes off, chatting with her about some cousin he has who works there. Her phone rings mid-sentence.

“Fang.”

“ _Judy, where are you?_ ”

“In a cab, on my way to the lab. Where are you?”

“ _I just left Big’s freaking office. He gave me these videos, I don’t know. Listen, I’ve been thinking of a way to get past the firewall. That’s the first thing we have to do, because there’s no way we’re going to access any of WLDE’s functions with it up and blocking us at every turn._ ”

“Okay, tell me.”

“ _You’re going to have to overload his emotional receptors. They’re one of the strongest functions of the program and if they burn out, then that might be enough to bring down some of the protocols._ ”

“Like the firewall.”

“ _Like the firewall._ ”

“Okay, but _how?_ ”

Fang swears, and Judy hears horns honking. “ _Look, I think the videos might do it, but I have no idea how to actually_ show them _to him._ ”

“That’s not going to work, I’ve got Bellweather tailing me, there’s no time to get videos converted into a format he can digest.”

“ _…Then you’re going to have to think of something else._ ”

Judy groans. “Why me?”

“ _Because he_ trusts _you Judy! That’s why Bellweather went after you. She knows you care. You think you could just spend every night spilling your guts to him and no one was going to know? She’s in charge of everything, Jude, she has been from the start! Of course she’s got access to your night logs, dammit!_ ”

“I…I didn’t think—”

“ _Yeah, well, neither did I. But I found out Bogo hasn’t been in for weeks. Since you started working there._ ”

The cab pulls up in front of the building. Judy stares. “I don’t have any money.”

The lion sighs. “Seriously?”

“I—”

A paw bangs on her window, and Judy screams. Fangmeyer wrenches the door open, shoves something into her paw and says, “Go! I’ll keep Bellweather off you for as long as I can.”

“ _Someone needs to pay me!_ ” the lion shouts.

Fangmeyer pulls her out of the cab. “Get to the AI core, it’s stored downstairs. _You_ have to be the one to do it. He’ll listen to you. He’ll understand.”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

Fan shakes his head. “Finnick said Nick’s brain was good, and brave.” He grabs Judy, pulling her into a hug. “Remember that one percent, Jude. Remember it, and make it count.”

“Fang…”

“Go! You gotta go before she gets here, stop wasting time!” He shoves her and Judy nods, running into the building. She glances over her shoulder one last time to see Fangmeyer arguing with the cabbie, and a set of black cars barreling down the road.

 

* * *

 

It takes some gymnastics to get past security with Fang’s badge – he’d shoved that and a flash drive into her paw when he’d found her in the cab – but she manages to do it. The elevator is crammed full, so Judy swipes the badge and bounds down the stairs, skidding across the slick concrete floor. Fang said the AI core was in the basement, but Judy has no idea where to look. The entire place is empty, but it must be somewhere, it _has_ to be –

You’re early, Carrots.

“Nick!” His voice fills the hall, and Judy’s racing heart seems to slow, for just a moment. “Nick, I need to know where the AI core is.”

The AI core is off limit to employees with company designations C through E. You don’t have access to the AI core Judy.

“I need to know where it is.”

It’s at the end of the hall, thirty feet from you.

Judy looks up. A simple, steel door is shut at the end of the hall. It seems harmless, not like it would house something – _someone_ – like WLDE.

Looks can be deceiving. What’s that reference? It’s bigger on the inside.

Judy laughs. “Nerd.” She approaches the door and swipes Fang’s card.

Dr. Fangmeyer’s company designation is C. He doesn’t have access to the AI core.

“What’s your designation, Nick?”

You keep calling me that, so I will continue to respond to it, but that is not my name. I have no company designation. I am not employed by ZTA. We’ve discussed this before, Carrots.

“But it’s your AI core.”

Technically, yes.

“So _you_ have access.”

Warning: this area of the code is blocked by a ZTA firewall. Further attempts to probe will be reported to Dr. Bogo.

“Bogo is _gone!_ ” Judy shouts. “Everything’s going to hell, Nick, it’s all wrong. This isn’t right, this isn’t the way it’s supposed to _be!_ You’re not supposed to be dead, I’m not supposed to be stuck down here, talking to something that _used_ to be someone I could have really _cared_ about! You’re supposed to be okay, because you’re the good one and you’re the brave one, Finnick _said so!_ ”

Warning: this area of the code is blocked by a ZTA firewall. Further attempts to probe will be reported to Dr. Bogo.

“ _I get it!_ ” She slams her paws against the door, over and over. “Let me in, _let me in!_ I have to fix this, I have to make it right.”

Nothing is wrong. Everything is exactly as it’s meant to be.

Judy hears a terrible noise, like someone being strangled.

She realizes it’s _her._

You’re crying. Judy, your heart is racing. You need to relax your pulse. Smaller mammals are highly susceptible to anxiety induced shock.

She _sobs._ “Please, Nick. _Please._ ”

I can send a vitals diagnostic report to Bogo’s office. My employee records indicate he’s been on paid leave for three months, but I’m sure he’d respond if I marked the message as urgent.

Judy presses her head to the door. “Finnick told me you were good. He told me you were brave. He told me you just wanted to hear your father’s voice one more time. He told me that you were so sick and your mother held you in her arms and she sang to you and she prayed for you and she wanted you to be okay because you were all she had left. But she wouldn’t have wanted it this way, Nick. She never wanted it this way.” She chokes again, and her knees give out.

Warning: this area of the code is blocked by a ZTA firewall. Further attempts to probe will be reported to Dr. Bogo.

“Then send your report,” she whispers. “Send it, maybe he’ll come back. Maybe Bogo is the only one who can make this okay. Or maybe he’s as bad as everyone else, I don’t know. Bellweather’s coming, and she’s going to find me here, and then she’s going to kill me, probably. Or put me in prison, or make me take care of you for forever.”

. . . Don’t you want to be able to talk to me forever?

Judy nods. “ _Yes._ But…but not like this. Not if it has to be this way.” She looks up, like he might be there above her, watching. She says to the ceiling: “You’re ninety-nine percent _bravado_ and…and _jerk face._ But I know what else you are,” she says. “I know what that last percent is.”

What is it, Judy?

She laughs. “It’s love, Nick. That last one is love.”

There is silence. Behind her, Judy hears the sound of hooves beginning to charge down the stairs, and Bellweather’s voice. She thought she could do this, but she has no idea _why._ Why a dumb bunny like her ever thought she could actually make things better _._

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“ _There she is!_ ”

Judy steps back from the door, resting her paw on the cool metal. “Nick…”

Warning: firewall powering down. Prepare for momentary blackout.”

“What?”

And then the lights die down. The door in front of her swings open, cool air pouring out and over her. Without another thought, Judy steps in, just as one of the sheep begins to close in on her.

The door slams shut behind her, and she is alone.

Well. Not completely.

You’re safe now, Judy. So calm down and use that bunny brain of yours to get some real work done.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end.

_are you going to scarborough fair?_  
_parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme_  
_remember me to one who lives there._  
_she once was a true love of mine._  
— “scarborough fair”, simon  & garfunkel

 

The AI core is cool. Air wafts through the room, running over the machines and servers required to keep WLDE – keep _Nick_ – going. Judy runs her paw along slick steel, watching lights blink every so often. There’s a screen, a lot like the one in the lab, and a soft orange line spread across it. She smiles.

Hello, Judy.

“Hey, Nick.”

He _laughs._ We finally see each other for what we really are.

Judy rests against a panel. “Can you see me?”

I see you like I always have, just clearer now. I hear you better. You sound…stubborn.

“That’s cheating,” she teases. “You already knew that about me.”

True.

Judy straightens, glancing around the room. “It’s really… _you_ , isn’t it?”

You finished the program, he says. This is what I always wanted it to be.

“So there are memories here?”

A few lights flash, and Nick says, Memory: Finnick and I sneak into his ex’s apartment to take back the boombox she kept. Judy laughs. You like that one? Okay. Memory: when I’m six my dad takes me to my first baseball game. I catch a homerun ball.

“That’s a good one.”

Memory: when I’m twelve my mom buys me the jacket everyone at school has, and then they all stop wearing it. Memory: when I’m sixteen, I fall in love with a girl, but she moves away and I never see her again.

“These are great.”

Memory: I don’t like being sick because I don’t like seeing my mom cry. Memory: I don’t like my medicine because it makes me nauseous and I can’t sleep. Memory: I’m starting to forget what I ate for breakfast. Memory: I’m starting to forget what my mother looks like. Memory: I’ve forgotten my dad’s middle name. Memory: where did I go to high school? Memory: corrupted. Memory: corrupted. Memory: corrupted, Memory: . . . I met a rabbit today.

Judy breathes. “ _Oh._ ”

. . . That one’s new.

_He’s making new memories. He’s remembering me. He’s remembering everything. This is unprecedented, this has never been seen before, I am the first mammal to watch an AI self-actualize, watch him **grow** , watch him live_ –

Judy.

She eases onto the floor, folding her legs underneath her and leaning against a panel. “I came here to do something, but now I’m not sure if I can.”

But you must.

“But I must,” she agrees.

Why though? It’s safe to assume, I think, that you’re here to delete me. You’ve risked your life, risked your job, and now you’ve locked yourself into this room. You have very few options, Judy. One of which is to leave without terminating this program.

She shakes her head. “This isn’t right.”

Couldn’t it be, though?

“Not this way. Bellweather wants to use this technology to control and manipulate people’s _lives_ , Nick. I can’t…I can’t let her do that.”

So because she’s crazy, I’m the one who has to go.

“Nick…you’re already gone.”

The program ticks angrily. I’m not, though. I’m here. That was the entire point of this project, to maintain someone’s memory through technology. We did something beautiful, Judy. Why would you take that away?

She clenches her fists. “Because it’s not how you remember someone, Nick. It’s not how you preserve their history. That’s not how you keep someone you…someone you _love_ alive in your heart.”

But I did.

“Yeah?” She stands now, _angry._ “Well that doesn’t make it _right._ Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should. Just because you’re smart enough to do something, or because you have the tech or the guts or _whatever_ , that doesn’t make it okay, Nick.”

Then how do you remember someone? How do you preserve them?

Judy reaches into her pocket, pulling out the flash drive Fangmeyer gave her, just before she ran inside. She goes to the computer, pushing it into the USB port. “Like _this_.”

The monitor lights up with four different videos, and the first one plays.

 _“Alright, so we’re starting,”_ says the fox on the screen.

“That’s you,” Judy says. A tall, red fox, wearing an ugly shirt and a poorly knotted tie, goggles pushed up over his ears. He’s got a soldering iron in one paw, hanging dangerously close to the hem of his shirt. Finnick pulls it out of the way.

_“You’re gonna burn the whole damn place down.”_

_“Well at least_ something _would be happening,”_ Nick says brightly. _“But we won’t have to. We’re going to make history today.”_

_“You say that every day.”_

_“I have to,”_ he explains. _“If I don’t, then when we finally do it just won’t feel like as much of an accomplishment.”_

Finnick laughs. _“You’re crazy, Nicky.”_

_“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”_

 

* * *

 

Judy plays all the videos. By the end of it she’s crying, her heart _aching_. Nick finally says,  If you’d known me back then, would you have let me do this?

“No.”

Well. I think your shtick about memories is bullshit.

“Do you have a profanities modifier in there?”

I do, actually. It’s functioning at full capacity now. The line blips angrily. Memory doesn’t bring people back, Judy. Memory didn’t bring my father back. It didn’t help me find the answers I needed from him, after he was gone. But I’m still here. Nick Wilde is alive, Judy, and he’s—

“But you’re not,” she says. “You’re _not_ alive, Nick.”

The room grows silent. The door is either thicker than she realized, or Bellweather’s gone to get a torch because she can’t hear anything but the gentle hum of Nick’s hardware. She puts a paw on the console. “I know you wanted her to remember you. You wanted her to always have you there. But she didn’t want it that way.”

I was going to give her something beautiful, and she didn’t want it. The line is so still. Why didn’t she want it?

Judy smiles. “Because she has the memory of being your mother. Every moment she spent with you is tucked away, Nick. How could _she_ ever forget?” Judy swallows thickly, cheeks wet with tears. “I know…I know you wanted to make sure she was happy. And you wanted to make sure everyone else could be happy, too. But this is the _wrong way_ to remember someone you love.”

. . . Why?

“Because you’ll never be able to tell a story the way your mother will. You’ll never be able to carry a photo with you and keep it somewhere safe. You’ll never be able to smell a shirt that has someone’s scent on it.” Judy closes her eyes. “You’ll never be able to touch someone, and think about the first time someone touched you.

“That’s how you remember someone, Nick. That’s how you keep them alive forever.”

He is silent again. Judy’s alright with that. She needs to reconcile the ache in her heart with what she knows she must do. Still, she needs him to say yes. She has no idea how to access any of his functions here, and without his consent, she’s lost. It’s harder than she thought, talking an AI into dying all over again.

Alright. The line seems to shudder. Pay attention, Carrots. I’m going to show you how to terminate this program.

“I don’t like that word.”

I’m not going to access my thesaurus for you on this, Judy, so listen up, because I’m not going to repeat myself.

“I can keep up with you, slick.”

I know you can. I think we could have been something special if we’d met before.

“I was like sixteen when you died.”

Well, maybe we could have been pen pals.

“Maybe.” She follows a few instructions, tapping out some code. “Alright. I’m listening.”

 

* * *

 

Beyond the door, someone is trying to get in. Judy hears them, now, and her heart starts to race.

Don’t go into shock on me now, Carrots. We gotta get this done. If she gets in before—

“I know. I’m almost done.”

When I’m gone, that door will open. Do you have a plan?

“No, but I’m gonna be okay.”

I believe it.

She breathes. “Okay.”

Okay.

That noise is threatening to bubble up again, so she swallows. “Nick…Nick I wanted you to know.”

Save it, Carrots. You don’t need to start confessing things. I’m on my way out.

“I know, I just…” Judy closes her eyes. “I’m so _glad_ I met you.”

I’m glad I met you, too.

“I’m going to make it right, you know. I’m going to…to make sure the things you believed in are never forgotten.”

Make sure it’s yours, Judy.

“It will be. But that’s how I’m going to remember you. And not the you that you…you _used_ to be. I mean the you that I met. The you right here. I won’t ever forget this.”

I should hope not.

“You’re going to tease me, right up to the end aren’t you?”

Oh, definitely.

She laughs. “Hey, Nick?”

Yeah?

“You know I love you, right?”

He laughs, too. Do I know that, Carrots? A pause. Then: Yeah. I know that.

 

* * *

 

It only takes two keystrokes to say goodbye. The console is tear streaked, and Judy is shaking, but it’s done.

The power in the room slowly fades out, and the door behind her finally opens.

Judy turns, not really sure what to expect. She thinks Bellweather might shoot, or at least subdue her. She thinks Bellweather might tackle her on her own, she’s awfully fast, but –

It isn’t Bellweather in the doorway at all.

It’s…a buffalo.

Judy squints. “…Dr. Bogo?”

He ducks into the room and extends a hoof. “The one and only, Ms. Hopps.” Judy stretches out her paw. “Come along, Judy. We have a lot to discuss.”

 

* * *

 

And in the end, no one goes to jail. Not even Bellweather, for basically threatening their lives and job security.

“One threat was leveled with another. She agreed to give up her board position in return for our silence.”

“You blackmailed her,” Judy says.

“Yes. She isn’t _allowed_ to hold controlling shares in the company, or influence decision making. All of her board activity was done through a proxy, but I know exactly who they are, and I know she’d lose her job over this. Lionheart isn’t squeaky clean, but he’d rather not have a scandal on his hands. Especially if that tech were to go mainstream. Of which there is no hope, now.” Judy ducks her head, but Bogo raises a hoof. “That’s…fine, actually. After Bellweather locked me out of the system a few months ago, I had some time to think.”

“She locked you out?”

“It’s a long story. Boring, bureaucratic board things. The only reason I got in was because WLDE sent me a message, had the whole building unlocked for me. I found Bellweather banging down the door and managed to convince her to negotiate a few terms of surrender. But I doubt this is the last time she’ll try to have a go at us.”

“She could hire her own developers,” Judy murmurs.

“She could, but I have a feeling we’re going to feel this in our pocketbooks before anything else.”

“…I don’t understand politics at all.”

Bogo laughs. “And that’s why you’ll make a fine programmer.”

Judy blinks. “You mean I’m not…I’m not fired? Or _arrested_?”

“Mr. Big is willing to overlook any bribery that took place in order to gain access to his employee records. He’d like to thank you for stopping Dawn Bellweather from big brothering the city, and says any consequences can be discussed with him, face to face. I think you and Fangmeyer may find yourselves with a lot of uncompensated work over the next few months, but other than that.” He shrugs.

Judy frowns. “This is…this is too easy.”

“How?”

“I broke the law. I _destroyed_ a self-actualizing AI. I ran from sheep trying to _kill me._ And after all that, we’re all just…going to walk away? Like it never happened?”

Bogo leans forward. “Are you ever going to forget, Judy?” She shakes her head. “Neither will Bellweather. Neither will Big, or Fangmeyer, or Finnick. We’re all going to remember what happened, and we’re going to do what we will with it. Big’s going to get free work, Bellweather’s going to try to get revenge. I’m getting  a talented new programmer.” He puts a heavy hoof on her shoulder. “You’re the only one who gets to decide what to do with this, Judy. So tell me.

“What are you going to do with it?”

 

* * *

 

_“See? It’s like having a pet bird, but without the mess!”_

_“That’s really great, Nicky. You ready for some birthday cake?”_

_“Ten minutes, mama.”_

_“Papa’s waiting, Nick. He’s got your present.”_

_“…Five minutes, mama.”_

Nick’s mother leans onto Judy’s shoulder. “We got him a kit to build a computer that year. He wound up fishing parts out of the dumpster behind engineering and building something twice as big.” She laughs. “He was always like that.”

Judy nods. “Thank you for sharing these with me, Mrs. Wilde.”

“Thank you for watching.” They both stand, walking toward the door. “I’m glad you came and told me. I never did go to see that thing, you know. Finnick asked if I wanted to. He said it sounded like him.”

“It did.”

Mrs. Wilde shakes her head. “No, I know what my Nicky sounds like. I’d rather keep that up _here._ ” She taps her temple before leaning down to give Judy a hug. “Let me know how your work is going, love. It sounds like something Nick would have really appreciated.”

Judy smiles. “I will.”

It’s been a handful of months since she deleted WLDE, and there isn’t a day that goes by that she doesn’t think of him. Sometimes she’ll wake up in the middle of the night, terrified that she made the wrong choice – Bogo tells her not to dwell on it. She did what she did, and she freed the company from Dawn Bellweather’s control.

“Now we can make things that actually change people’s lives,” he’d said. Even Finnick had agreed.

“You freed me, too,” he’d told her. “I can travel again. Might go west, get some beach time in. Maybe stay there for a while.”

“I hope you’re happy.”

“Don’t you worry about me, fluff. I’m always gonna find a way to make Finnick happy.”

And he certainly had. Judy gets an email from him every so often, with gratuitous beach babe photos and sandy vistas. She shares them with Fang at work, and he whines a little, jealous.

“We could take a beach trip,” Judy offers. “Clawhauser, you wanna go to the beach?”

He scowls. “Ugh, _sand_.”

“Yeah, but look.” She shows him a photo and he groans.

“Ugh, _churros._ ”

Judy smiles, tossing her phone aside and peering at her screen.

She’s writing a new program, something that they’re working on integrating into hospitals. A way for patients suffering memory loss to catalogue their thoughts when they have them, so they or their loved ones can access them later. Photos and memories, songs and little moments.

It’s small, nothing grand like Nick’s dreams not so long ago, but Judy thinks Nick’s mom is right – he’d have appreciated it all the same.

On her new desk she’s set up a dozen photo frames – Fangmeyer keeps telling her it’s clutter, but Judy’s got a lot of family, so she needs to have them all in one spot. There’s a photo of her brothers, one of her sister, and one of them all together. Her mom and dad, plus one of the new baby. There’s a picture of her and Fangmeyer and Francine from accounting meeting Gazelle. There’s a picture of Judy from her twenty-fifth birthday, just a few weeks before.

And there’s a picture of Nick and Finnick in the Wilde’s garage, standing over a pile of engine parts, welding masks pushed back, their faces bright with the excitement of tearing something apart. They’re young, probably younger than Judy is now. Nick’s mom gave it to her, because she thought Judy would want to remember what he looked like. She doesn’t tell her that she’ll never forget him, that she’ll never forget any part of him that she knew.

But she misses going to that lab downstairs, sometimes. They’ve torn it apart, now, a testament to how quickly and how eagerly people forget.

But Judy knows. Bogo told her – _you’re the only one who gets to decide what to do with this Judy. So tell me._

She touches the frame.

We have each other’s backs.

You’re safe now, Judy.

_What are you going to do with it?_

Leaning back, she stares at her screen, considering the work ahead. Judy knows exactly what she’s going to do with all of this, what she plans on doing forever –

She’s going to _remember._ She’s going to remember that fox.

She’s never going to forget.

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @ weatheredlaw
> 
> as always my work remains unbeta'd by anyone but myself, and i am not currently looking for one. all errors are my own and caught and corrected in time by yours truly.


End file.
